Shout It From The Rooftops
by LibraMoon
Summary: Canada had an unusual heart. It skipped beats for her neighbor to the south. America. The one nation that never noticed anything. Or maybe, she was the one that hadn't noticed? Rated M for later chapter(s). AmericaxFem!Canada. Per request.
1. Chapter 1

_**Thank you my lovely reviewers! This is a request for a fan Fem!CanadaxAmerica... I am going to assume that is what you meant! I saw the one for a colonialfemAmericaxPossessive England. I will do that one as well, give me some time.**_

_**CIAAmericaxKGBRussia (Yes, I can. With spy stuff and romance. Russia is not going to be a jerk in that though. I like Russia, poor country gets such a bad reputation)**_

_**This will be a two-shot or more. Rated M for later chapters.**_

_**I own nothing. :)**_

OoOoOo

Canada was home to a great many things. Some of them iconic, like her Royal Mounted Police Force or her affluent middle class. Others not so much. Like her air force, which did not see much action. To her, that only proved that they accomplished their goal or never having to use it.

However, as wonderful the country was, it was its personification that was having a bit of trouble. Canada, in all her polite and mild-spoken glory, was trying to understand her rather unusual heart. It was unusual because of who it beat the fastest to.

America.

Her neighbor to the south. The one she affectionately dubbed her 'shoes'. The blonde haired and blue-eyed exuberant nation called America. Canada knew him very well. She also knew what a walking contradiction he could be because of his people, and his own _unique_ personality.

It should have made him the last person her heart decided to skip beats too. However, she could still recall the first time they met. In a rolling field surrounded by an out cropping of overly large trees compared to their tiny size.

When the blonde boy with a cow lick had turned as red as the ribbon on his night gown, and hastily given her a slightly crumpled flower.

It had been so long ago, Canada could only remember that it was blue and she'd like it. Even if it was a little squished by his hand. They played together for days upon days, until Finland came. Followed by France, England, Spain, Russia, and many others.

She thought their separation was why America turned out the way he did.

But, even if all that were true, she still couldn't explain why it was always him that she gravitated toward. Granted, some of it was because America never let her forget his presence. And, sometimes it was because she had to go and rescue him from doing something foolish.

Not all the time, but it had happened before.

Yet, she could feel it between them. Something.

_Something._

However, despite their differences, there was a particular way that America behaved toward Canada. It was often loud and brash, but there was a sweetness about him that he reserved for her, she liked to think. Because he made her feel special. He often talked to her, when others were too busy.

He laughed at her jokes, and came to visit her across the border on a semi-regular basis.

His blue eyes would watch her during meetings. Even at times when the rest of the world was facing near chaos, Canada had seen him watching her. There was an occasion or two that she could recall where it almost appeared as if America was trying to ... shield her from the worst things.

Which made no sense. Canada was a strong and capable country in her own right.

However, she was strong enough to admit to herself that she was in love with the personification of one of the strangest countries in the world.

OoOoOo

She knew that America had his concerns over her diplomatic ties with countries that he was not overly friendly with.

Canada had hoped he would come to get over it in time.

It was an unfounded hope.

It all came to an ugly head one day, when America's eyes hardened at her sitting with Cuba and Russia chatting animatedly.

The look America sent her was could have frozen the sun. Canada wasn't sure why, but she felt as if she'd done something wrong but the glacial glance he sent toward the other 'socialistic' countries. The whole meeting was spent in uncomfortable silence on America's end of the table.

He did not speak so much as one word to her throughout the day.

America, unlike his normal rushed behavior, waited patiently until he could get her alone. He did not insult the other nations, nor make a scene.

He walked with her out to the front entrance. There was not a soul in sight. Just the two of them. And, Canada found herself equal parts nervous and excited. However, she could tell by the set of his jaw that this was not going to be about friendly things, but her choice of sitting with the others.

She felt her blood heat slightly with pre-emptive anger.

"You shouldn't be so quick to accept them." America started with worry in his tone.

Oh! This was just ludicrous. He thought that he, of all people, should be lecturing her upon foreign relations. Canada flushed angrily, her better nature twisting to a more assertive one. It normally happened around America, though Canada did not know why.

There was something about America that made her want to stand up and assert herself.

"Accept them, eh?" She asked, growing more annoyed at him for interfering than anything else. "I have better diplomatic relations with them than you ever will."

His blue eyes flashed at her from behind Texas, but America clenched his jaw, keeping whatever he wanted to say to himself.

"I understand that," he tried again, attempting to be more diplomatic than she ever truly gave him credit for at times. Not always. Canada had seen what a silver-tongued charmer he could be when he wanted. "But I am trying to warn you."

She snorted in irritation.

"I do not need your warnings, America," Canada said trying to be gentle.

"I think you don't understand." He tried tactfully, "exactly what the ramifications are going to be."

"Oh, I think I understand perfectly," she replied with a barely noticeable hard tone to her voice.

The male nation shifted, looking at her carefully. She watched as he sighed.

"I'm just trying to speak with you, confidentially. As a warning of good faith. Canada, I think you are being unreasonable," America tried again.

It was the absolute wrong thing to say. Her face flushed and she clenched her fists as they trembled with anger.

"Unreasonable? I am perfectly reasonable." She snapped angrily. "You are the one that constantly gets into trouble. Who insults other nations without thinking. How can you possibly think to give me advice? That's right, you don't think. You never think things through!" She continued with a fury about her flushed face.

America stared at her with a stoic mask that betrayed nothing, but she could see the hurt flashing in his eyes. She would regret it, partially already did, but continued on anyway. Her frustration at the stagnant distance between them only made her less cautious.

Why couldn't he see that she loved him? Because he was a loud fool. A fool! Canada glared at him

"I am allowed to speak with my allies. They are understand the political aspects better. They treat me with mutual respect and you're obnoxious! You never notice-"

The change in his face, from calm to _furious_ was instantaneous.

"Never notice?" America half-shouted. "Never _notice_, my ass! Notice what? That you tilt your head to the side when you are confused? Or that you get this crinkle around your eyes when you are trying not to laugh? Or do I never notice that you only like the cakes Germany brings, and not Prussia? Or how you love the color red, but not on actual maple leaves?"

She looked at him, clearly stunned.

"W-what ... did... you...say?"

America was nearly panting for breath.

"Do I not notice that you say 'maple leaves' when you're scared? Or that you point out all my flaws because you feel the safest with me? Have I failed to notice that you sit at every meeting and get teary eyed when we talk about the orphans from war? How about the fact that you read France's stupid romance books all the time and sigh when you get to the good parts?"

Canada floundered at what to say. All of what he said was so painfully true. His blue eyes bored into hers with an intensity that perfectly rivaled some of the scenes from France's books.

Her heart leapt, as she struggled to remember to breathe.

Something shifted between them. Canada could feel it all the way down to the soles of her feet. Her mouth went dry and she struggled for something to say.

Please, let her say something! Anything.

Her eyes remained locked with his as he searched for something in her gaze.

"God," he snapped angrily, Texas showing off his hurt expression. "You really don't get it do you?"

"Eh?" Canada responded with wide eyes. Finally able to find some remnant of her voice.

"I see you all the time. There isn't a day that goes by... not a fucking hour when I don't think about you. When I don't see that beautiful smile of yours in my head." America stated passionately. "But you... you..."

He ran a hand through his golden lock, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come.

"Canada. I _see_ you. I _know_ you." America said slowly, staring at her with an expression she'd never seen before.

The male nation stilled. "All I want to do is keep you safe, because..."

He looked like a wounded animal. One that had never been shown an ounce of affection or kindness, and was tending his own scrapes as best he could. It was painful to watch. Even more painful to hear when he brought up the one subject they'd silently agree to never speak about.

"Have you forgotten that day? Was it so easy for you?" He gave a disillusioned laugh at his own expense.

" I remember. I remember that I begged you," he said with a tone that cut her to the quick. "To join me. To be with me. You said 'no'. Even though some of your own citizens fought for me."

She swallowed, her heat threatening to beat out of her chest.

"You said 'No', Canada. I hear that in my head every time I look at you, and see your gorgeous face." His blue eyes bored into hers with an intensity that stole her breath away. "And I still couldn't bring myself to let you go."

"Am-America?" She queried, not bothered by the cracking of emotion in her voice. Her hands shook as she watched him.

"I love you, Canada." America said defiantly. Unashamed or afraid as he stood before her. "I've loved you for as long as I can recall."

She flushed to the roots of her hair, scarcely believe his words.

"And you can't even see it." He finished was a bittersweet sadness. "Still."

Canada could only watch in horror as his handsome face contorted into the most heartbreaking expression of loss.

"I can get everyone else in the world to notice me," he said without malice, "but I can't get you to see that I've _never _stopped loving you. There hasn't been a day, not a single damn one, where I don't think about you and what we might have been."

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. An air of finality settled between them heavily and Canada felt a sense of panic.

"You...you...love me?" She asked in a whisper soft voice.

America stilled, and Canada felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes. The world was slightly distorted by the salty liquid.

"How could you not know?"He questioned softly, his blue eyes so full of pain and longing that it made her want to weep.

She reached for him, but he packed away from her as if her touch would only wound him further.

"America," Canada said softly, a pleading note in her voice.

"Go back Canada," he said gently, but firmly at the same time. "Go back to the meeting. Sit with Cuba, or Russia, or China. Hell, sit with anyone. I won't bother you again."

Her heart felt as if it were breaking.

"Wh-what?"

The look in his eyes had her shaking with denial, with sadness and regret.

_Defeat. _

The look she'd never seen in America's eyes. It wasn't bitter, he did not yell nor scream in anger. There was no cruelness in his face. There was only a quiet acceptance.

It had her ready to cry out in unfairness.

The one time America was mature enough to let something go... had to be the one time Canada was guilty of not noticing someone's feelings.

She'd always been kind and considerate. Always. Then again, she'd always been quick to dismiss the ways that Alfred tried to show his love. The trading she could understand. Their close relations due to geography she could also easily see too.

But that day, when he'd just been starting out as a nation really, and he'd come to her with very little to offer but his heart on his sleeve. It would have been foolish to accept him. Her leader had understood that, even when he'd pulled her by the hand and looked into her eyes...

He'd asked for them to become one large country, something special. Canada had refused him without so much as a second thought.

She'd thought she was being firm against someone intent upon building himself up.

She hadn't understood. That what he'd said so long ago actually had been from his heart. Not for gain or stability.

She was not cruel for refusing him. Canada had wanted to stand on her own feet. She'd had her countrymen fighting for him, for her, and for independence in general. She pressed a hand to her lips to still their trembling. America moved toward her, his face filled with their reciprocated anguish.

His arms, strong and unyielding held her as if she were precious. As if touching her would break her because she was so delicate to him.

"Don't cry. Canada, it kills me when you cry. Je t'adore." He whispered, kissing her forehead lightly.

His accent was atrocious, but she knew what he said. I love you.

Canada trembled like a leaf caught in the bitter winter wind. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as her heart overflowed with the feelings she'd spent so long trying to hide.

"I always will," America said hugging her gently. "But it is obvious now, that we just aren't...that I just can't keep doing this to us. Holding on is only making it worse. I'm so sorry Canada."

But they could be together. She loved him. She did! The female nation wanted to tell him, but the words would not come. Her throat was thick with feeling and she couldn't speak.

Canada adored America, even if he was crazy and hyperactive. He had always noticed her. She saw that now. The female nation swallowed a lump in her throat. It couldn't end like this.

She wouldn't allow it.

She felt the sting of the cold when his embrace was gone. Her eyes landed on snow when they should have been seeing him. Belatedly, she moved her gaze to numbly watch him turn and walk away.

No.

_NO._

It wasn't fair. He hadn't even given her a chance to tell him how she felt. If he had just-

Her eyes widened, and she mentally reeled as she recalled the conversation. She'd never said she loved him.

She'd never said it.

They were both _idiots. _

Canada felt a fresh wave of tears burst forth as she sobbed into her hands. The tears were not tears of sadness, or regret, but of hope. Of course he would try to pull away. He thought she was saying 'no' again.

Not this time.

Because, America was being foolish and claiming that he was only hurting them by continuing to try for her. At least, that's what she thought he meant by his last statement. However, for once... thank every little blessing out there, he wasn't.

The female nation was the one that needed to come forward now. To take up the mantle of being the fearless one after letting him do it for almost three hundred years. Despite the things that had happened between them.

It was her turn to show him how she felt.

Canada swallowed and composed herself. If America wasn't going to do the sensible thing and continue to woo her so that they could be together, then by God -and her country's largest export- she was going to woo America.

The _Canadian_ way.

After all, who knew America better than she did? No one. Not a single country, and if anyone claimed otherwise, well then they were a no good liar. And, her heart swelled, knowing that she could change his mind.

Because she'd done it before. Now it just mattered to her more. She nodded to herself. Yes, she could woo America easily and then the look of heartbreak in his eyes would fade in time. They could stop dancing circles around each other.

They could just... be America and Canada together.

The smile that graced her face, and the light of love in her eyes nearly stopped winter in its tracks. Were such a thing possible.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you my lovely reviewers! I had no idea so many people adored AmeCan (or whatever we are calling it this year) Thank you! **_

_**It gets fluffy after this chapter, I swear.**_

_**I own nothing. Rated M **_

OoOoOo

Canada took great pains to braid her hair in a way that flattered her features. She dabbed a small bit of perfume on both her wrists and on the back of her neck. She pinned up the braided long locks in an artful arrangement. With a small smile at her reflection, she applied a bit of make-up.

She was positive that with a bit of effort and some carefully chosen words, she was going to leave America speechless.

She laughed softly to herself, and a warm feeling filled her chest. She could do this, and she would. Canada had spent weeks going over her plan. She was a known logistics expert, and she knew in her heart of hearts that getting around America's foolish notions of giving up on 'them' would be child's play.

However, her time spent planning had also caused Canada to look back upon the moment's where she hadn't seen America. She hadn't noticed for the longest time that he was always there. Always. Yes, in trade and in treaty she knew those. Yet, he was the one that came to their shared border, a bright smile on his face and some strange reason for them to spend time together.

Such as the time he'd killed his house plant and begged her to help him make revive it. Canada had thought it was his normal antics, but now she was not entirely sure. Had it just been an excuse to be around her?

Of course, he sat by her at the meetings, when she wasn't sitting with Russia or Cuba. However, America was always the first one to meet up with her afterwards, or offer her a meal if they ran over in time.

She sniffed delicately, holding back a tear or two that threatened to spill from her eyes. She would not ruin her make up, after she had spent this much time getting ready.

Perhaps America was brash, and childish sometimes. However, Canada could not help but think upon his confession every day since it had happened.

She had no idea he loved her that much.

She shook her head and tried to focus on the positive side of things. Today was another meeting, and another chance to see him. She would get him to understand that all the things they had mutual hoped for, not knowing the other wanted it as well, were completely possible.

She pinched her cheeks lightly, to get a touch more color in them and smoothed down her business apparel.

Canada held her head high as she looked over her reflection with a critical eye.

Yes, she would certainly leave him speechless.

OoOoOo

As Canada ought to have known, France noted the change in her appearance right away. His blue eyes widened momentarily, before a delighted grin lit up his features.

"Ma petite bijou!" He exclaimed, walking toward her quickly with wide arms. "You look lovely today."

"Merci," She replied as she attempted not to blush. Her eyes quickly looked about the room, scanning for a familiar head of blonde hair.

Please, be here. She thought with a small rush of nervousness. America always showed up.

Unless he overslept, which hadn't happened in decades.

France smiled indulgently.

"Are you looking for someone?" His blue eyes brightened considerably.

"W-what?" Canada asked, clearly startled that France could tell. Not that, she been entirely discreet.

The older nation looked at her curiously. A secretive smile adorned his features. He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"You are," he confirmed with a soft note to his words. He was the person that never actively sought to embarrass Canada. And, if she was trying to impress one very fortunate soul, he wished her nothing but success.

"I... uh..." she said, trying to come up with something to say. "Have you seen America?"

"America?" He parroted, his blue eyes widened and he looked her over. "Hm..." he said, thinking something to which she was not privy to.

"Uh... yeah. You've seen him, eh?" She asked again, her accent changing from its more French origin to her more well known one.

France watched her with a carefully neutral face. His head tilted to the side, as if he were deciding something.

"He has declined to come today," he informed her stoically, watching her reaction.

Canada's face fell momentarily. "Ah... I hope he's okay." She muttered with a small amount of disappointment that mingled with annoyance. IF she'd known he wasn't going to show up here, she would have gone to see him.

A loud laugh broke through the room, and even though the source was far away she knew it by heart. Canada's gaze shot over to see the very nation that caused her heart to skip a beat laughing in what seemed to be high spirits. Her confused violet eyes swung to France.

"But... you said-?"

"So it is America?" He asked seriously, looking at her with an unreadable expression.

Canada blushed, and sought to tuck back a strand of hair that wasn't there. She swallowed and looked downward.

"You don't approve?" She asked with a great deal of dignity and poise.

France hummed in the back of his throat. "It is not that I do not approve, Ma petite. It is just, that I care for you and America."

She peeked up at him, confused as to where this was going.

"He wouldn't hurt me," she defended softly, attempting to reassure her father figure.

"It is not you that I worry about, ma petite." He informed her gently, as if the words should have been obvious.

"What?" She asked again, with her features contorting as her brows furrowed together.

The older nation sighed, and placed an arm around her shoulders in a loving manner. He gently steered them back out through the main doors. Canada allowed herself to be led as she puzzled over what France could possibly mean by such a statement.

She was not the sort of nation that intentionally harmed another. Their leaders could change events for the better or the worse, but the nations themselves where separate from such things.

"Canada, little one," France said patiently when they were alone. "It is not that I think it is a bad match. You two have been on friendly terms for over a century. However, things are not always so simple. That man has loved you for as long as I can recall."

She flushed, putting her hands to her face. "France," she scolded in a high pitched tone. Her embarrassment was plain for him to see.

"No, it is true. From the very day England and I first met you, America has always paid special attention to you. It was obvious. Not even Mexico has garnered so much affection from him, and she is his other neighbor!"

Canada shook her head, and looked at him through the gaps in her fingers.

"I know," she said softly. She had been given a great deal of time to think about it.

"Good. Then you know to tread softly. America... America is... well one of the most violent countries according to the rest of us, but he is also the one that gets so passionate it is almost consuming."

"What do you mean?"

"Canada, he wasn't even going to join World War II. Had it not been-"

"For Pearl harbor," she finished, nodding. She put her hands down at her sides.

"Non. Had it not been for you."

She stilled and watched France with a look of disbelief. "Me?"

France sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I should not have said..."

"What? Tell me, please?" She asked, grabbing his suit sleeve and tugging on it. Much like a child that could not bear to wait any longer.

"... he'll kill me if he knows I told you," France said morosely.

"I'll protect you," Canada promised with bright eyes.

The male nation looked at her and waivered on indecision. Finally, after a few tense moments he sighed and nodded. "I could never deny you anything."

She gave a small smile at the admission.

"You joined in September 1939 and declared war on Germany." He stated factually.

"Yes," she agreed.

"However, America, after learning you had joined, discussed with his president about repealing the arms embargo and law of neutrality so that he could sell weaponry to England and I."

Canada blinked and waited.

"He did that after storming into a meeting, which was supposed to have been secret, and demanding to know what it would take." France said, with a slight smile of approval.

"What it would take?" Canada repeated, growing increasingly confused.

"What it would take for him to take your place. What would we need so that you would see as little battle as possible."

"But I lost men," she started to argue.

"You lost 45,400 men," he acknowledged readily. "America lost 420,000. England 450,000 Russia lost millions. As did China. I lost 550,000." He rattled off easily. "Many were lost by other countries as well."

"But He knew the war was inevitable," she said softly saddened by the loss of so many lives.

"Yes, but when you joined, there was something about America that was far more determined than I have ever seen." France said forcefully. "The man has followed you into one of the bloodiest wars in history without once even telling you. If that is not love, Ma petite, then even_ I_ do not know the meaning."

Canada's vision swam behind crystalline tears. "But, he always said that it was Pearl Harbor that made him act."

She shook her head in denial.

"Little one, he was gearing up for war long before Pearl Harbor." France said gently, "So when I say I worry about you going after him, I mean it. It is not that you will hurt him intentionally."

Canada looked at him, refusing to allow the tears to fall.

"It is just that for such a foolish nation, he has loved more deeply than many others can claim they have in all their years upon this earth. Or as a nation." His eyes searched hers. "Canada, for all his bravado and false airs of pride, to lose you would break his heart."

She swallowed heavily.

"But I love him," she said in a voice that left no room for argument as it stemmed from a heart about to burst from being denied.

France stilled, his eyes widened and he opened his mouth. Only to close it a few more times.

"Well, ma Cherie," he said clearing his throat as he shifted his balance from one foot to the other. "Why did you not say so?! Come." He wiped the tears from her eyes, and checked over her appearance. Then he grasped her arm and pulled her along as he strode toward the meeting.

"What are you doing?" She said in a voice still tick with tears.

"Getting you your man, of course. I do expect some credit for the union, as I am sure you know. Afterall, who am I to deny love?" France said with a cheerful demeanor that left her baffled.

"You just said..."

"Yes, and you said you love him. It is so simple now! And," he added with a salacious wink, "England will need someone to console him."

Canada blinked in confusion as France all but dragged her toward the doors.

"Console him? Why?"

France laughed, a deep and rich sound.

"That is not for delicate minds such as yours to know."

"Fra-" She started as he pulled the doors open and nearly thrust her inside.

"Oh yes! Canada!" He said loudly, as he gave another deep laugh. "You are so funny! Ma petite!"

Canada stared at the room, nearly mortified to the soles of her feet as all eyes swung toward her and France.

All of it was nearly forgotten in an instant when achingly familiar blue eyes locked with hers and Canada noticed that America stopped whatever it was he had been doing.

He glanced at her face, then back at her eyes and she felt herself flush from the intensity of his stare. However, internally she was suddenly high on confidence.

Because, even from this distance, it looked as if he was rendered speechless.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Huzzah! Reviews. I am sorry if you hate FemCanada! I really am, but she is still really cool and all. **_

_**I'm a sucker for the sappy stuff sometimes. :)**_

_**Rated M, I own nothing**_

OoOoOo

Canada was not used to being ignored. Well, by America at least. In fact, the more she pondered the past, the more if became nearly self-evident that he'd paid a large amount of attention toward her. However, today the air around him seemed coldly polite and civil.

Had it been toward anyone else, she might have praised him for acting so mature. However, the beautiful northern country did not like the sickening weight in the pit of her stomach as she watched her neighbor covertly from under her lashes.

She had a smile on her face as she chatted briefly with Russia about his opinion on the current situation in the Arctic circle. It was a hot topic for the nations, and she had felt rather confident that America would be all over the discussion in a moment.

Yet, the more she talked about it, the more she noticed that America was not even trying to interrupt or state what he thought about the whole affair. Her violet eyes met Russia's and she could tell that the larger nation could sense the shortly-grown discord between the pair. The way his gaze narrowed minutely between her appearance and the fact that Canada was not sitting near America.

She was in her normal seating, but America was not. He was further down the way with other male nations around him. Part of her was pleased by that, because at least she would not be forced to witness him flirting with another female.

Though, perhaps that was unfair because she was assuming he would do it out of some sort of petty revenge. It was in his movies often enough, and all cultures had some smattering of the twisted logic buried in there. So it was not wholly out of the realm of possibility. She gave a sad sort of smile at the thought.

She did know America very well. However, her pride was still stinging enough to remind her and her heart; that there were parts to him that even she had failed to understand.

Like, how a man could love that strongly and for so very long? And she never even knew it until he was declaring it without guile or artifice directly to her face.

Canada shifted in her seat as she reached for a glass of water, as she glanced at her notes one more time. It was almost time for her presentation on preserving national forests for the sake of endangered or at risk animal populations.

The other nations had this strange assumption, at least the ones that did not know her well, that she spent her time wrestling bears. Well that and chopping wood, eating pancakes every day, and wearing flannel all of the time.

She was not Paul Bunyan.

Germany announced that it was her turn, and Canada moved with a fluid grace. Her presentation was one that most would heavily choose to ignore for profit or lack of resources. Some just did not care one way or the other. Part of her felt far more nervous than she had before. She wanted America's attention, and she had the intuitive feeling that his eyes would be on her.

Somehow, with the knowledge she now possessed, it felt different to her pounding heart and slightly light-feeling head. Canada put a sense of regality into her walk, for she wanted to stand out above the crowd today. Not that there was much of a crowd as the number of female nations was decidedly smaller than the male nations.

She felt the instant that achingly familiar sky-blue eyes turned their gaze on her. It was almost as if she could sense the physical sensation of America's attention. It was something she had taken for granted in the past.

OoOoOo

It would be the understatement of the Century to say that the nations knew about America's deep regard for Canada.

So, it was of great surprise to the majority of the meeting when he did not sit next to his neighbor. Though there was a seat open.

Germany glanced briefly toward Kenya. Kenya made a gesture with his hands that conveyed the message _'I have no idea what is going on between them_._ Why are you looking at me?_' Germany steepled his fingers together and pondered what might have happened.

This was... highly unusual for the pair.

Bulgaria shared a look with Belarus. Belarus had a slight frown on her features, but her eyes expressed that lurking curiosity she held toward the strange change.

Other nations discreetly whispered.

"What do you think happened?" South Korea asked Iceland as they both watched the unfolding scene. The way Canada focused the majority of her time on the notes, but whenever she paused, she was staring at America.

The male nation was watching her as well. His blue gaze never leaving her as she spoke, unless it was to jot down notes.

The air seemed to spike with a painfully obvious attraction between the Northern nations of North America.

Iceland glanced between the pair and noted the lack of reaction from America. As well as the change in Canada. The way she was trying to catch the eye in a subtle manner, and how she was not swaying to the other nations as much as she normally did in order to keep the peace.

Because, Canada truly was _integral_ for world peace and keeping America from getting into something that could not be undone. America had always took into account what Canada thought. Always.

And, every nation knew that.

Yet, today it seemed different. Almost as if...

Ah. So that is what had happened. Well, Iceland could hardly blame the star-spangled nation. Surely _300 years_ was enough of holding out on a thin shred of hope?

"I think..." Iceland said, with his thicker accent coming to the forefront as he focused more on the situation at hand. "I think... America has stopped trying to court Canada."

South Korea looked very surprised by even the idea. The dark-haired nation shook his head as he folded his arms across his midsection. His gaze landed on America, and then on Canada. South Korea had seen a great deal of conflict in the past.

However, he had also seen the amazing things that love, loyalty, and devotion could create. From the first moment he had seen America near Canada, he knew that usually brash nation held deep feelings for his neighbor.

It was also rather obvious that the quieter female nation held America close to her heart as well.

So, surely, it could not be given up on so easily?

"No," South Korea replied with a voice filled with contemplation. "No, I do not think America would ever do that."

Iceland shared a look with South Korea.

Time would prove one of them correct.

OoOoOo

Discreet glances.

That was what she was reduced to while the presentation had been met with some murmurs of approval. Canada nodded her head and gave the obligatory responses of thanks as her eyes lingered on America.

He adjusted Texas, and said something to Belarus. Belarus had planted herself next to Mexico, but there was a frown on her face. She stared silently at America until whatever she was wanting was not going to be met. Belarus curtly nodded her head and left America alone...

With Mexico.

Canada ignored the flare of irritation that pulsed through her body. She did not want to complicate winning America back to the understanding that they could be in love together. With each other.

Her violet eyes narrowed behind her glasses as Mexico said something that caused America to laugh.

Mexico had been waiting patiently to speak with America, his large smile never dimed as the dark-haired nation gave him a secretive smile of her own. Something was said, and a faint blush appeared on Mexico's features. She batted her eyes, in a sultry fashion, at America.

And, poor Canada could not hold back her French heritage.

This other woman was _not_ going to try and ...and...no!

With her head held high, she strode forward toward the pair. She had planned to try and coax America toward her with subtle flirtations. Perhaps being so bold as to corner him later and treating him to a cup of coffee. His people practically survived off of the stuff.

However, some part of Canada hardened at the sight of Mexico brushing her hand over America's arm as her head tilted to the side. It was a classic ploy of exposing her neck to appear softer and more feminine.

Her violet eyes narrowed as Mexico's ministrations appeared to be working. Granted, nothing the country had done was indecent or out of line. That irked Canada even more. The blonde female nation was inches away, ready to rip the wench's hand off of America when he gently removed Mexico's hand himself.

"We'll have to look into a time to discuss it," America said with a polite but reserved tone.

Canada came to a halt just behind Mexico as her eyes met sky-blue orbs. She was nearly trembling, her anger still burning behind her thoughts but there was a look in his eyes that stopped her in her tracks.

The warmth there, and the kindness. All of it was directed at her, as was the way his posture leaned slightly toward her. The way his political mask chipped briefly, and she was staring at the America that gave her a single blue flower hundreds of years ago. And, for a single second in time, Canada felt as if she were the only woman in the world.

"Canada," he said, acknowledging her presence.

She fought against the sudden sting of tears in her eyes as she blinked them away. Her mind quickly shifted gears, reminding her heavily that much was at stake here. The love they shared, that only she knew about. Her tactical inclination lent itself to trying to outshine Mexico. Nothing would be served by trying to shame the other country.

That and... Canada wasn't that sort of woman. Also, Mexico hadn't done anything wrong. Canada and America were not together. So, what was the harm of a little flirtation with an unattached nation?

However, he most certainly was not unattached. Yet, Mexico might not be aware of that. Canada tilted her chin lower in a slight nod.

"Hello, America." She replied, in a stronger voice that carried a hint of her French side. That part of her heritage refused to back down in the face of having her love absconded away by some beautiful and exotic beauty.

Violet eyes scanned to the other female country briefly.

Mexico looked displeased by her appearance.

Well... good.

"Do you have a moment?" Canada asked with a sultry edge to her words. "I would like to discuss some nuances of the latest arrangements for the new fiscal year."

The political mask of politeness was back in place, and she nearly mourned it being there.

"I do apologize," America responded with a tight smile. "But, as I told Mexico, we will have to look into a time to discuss it."

Mexico blinked, as did Canada.

America...

Had refused her?

Her violet eyes widened, as did the chocolate colored eyes of Mexico. Both women understood the, albeit very gentle, rebuff.

Mexico turned toward Canada, who's mouth was slightly agape in disbelief. America had never refused to speak with her. Even in times of war.

"Excuse me ladies," America said with a bright smile. "I really should be going. But, you both look very... lovely."

His gaze lingered briefly on Canada's face, he gave a nod and proceeded to move away from the pair.

Mexico looked ill at ease. She turned toward the Northern nation, her earrings caught and played with the florescent lights momentarily.

"What... What just happened?" She asked, clearly as startled.

Canada went from confused, to horrified, and then right back to determined,

If America wanted to play hard to get, she would let him.

She wasn't giving up.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A reviewer wanted America's POV. Okay! Featuring Jealous America.**_

_**Thank you readers!**_

_**I own nothing.**_

**OoOoOo**

He had to watch her.

_Had_ to, because he could never seem to look away. She was always bright and vibrant, like the precious flowers after the snows of winter had melted. Canada was all he could see, all he ever wanted. She was in short, everything to him.

America knew that things between them had gotten off to a rocky start. No part in history was left untouched or wholly peaceful. It was the way of the world, and the way of humans. It simply was. A fact he'd accepted from the moment he first existed, even as a child. War was inevitable. Death and sorrow were a given. Loss, was simply part of life.

Except when he saw Canada. The blonde haired girl playing amidst a rolling field, with the softest smile on her angelic features. He had been very young then, but he had lost his heart to the most gorgeous behind his blue eyes had ever be held.

His rounded cheeks had reddened and he had fought with himself over what to say. America, though he had not been 'America' yet, had settled on saying nothing at all. He chose instead to pick a blue flower.

Later, the people would tell him it was called 'Forget-me-not'. An apt name, considering the circumstances. He had tried so very hard to keep in intact, but it was hard to climb the hill with his small legs and not lose his balance.

The flower had been slightly crushed, though he had wanted to present her with one that was as perfect as he saw the girl.

Perhaps that should have been a warning to him.

America, had been so thoroughly excited, so overjoyed when the other colony smiled at him; that he had sworn right then and there to protect her. He would love her, the way the humans loved each other. He would care for her, and they could play together forever.

But, those had been the ambitions and hopes of an ignorant child. One that had not known the true ways of the world until others came into play. Finland, France, England, Spain, and the list went on. He had been ripped away from Canada. Sweet, and so dear to his heart, Canada.

Time changed them both. They grew. Though America's growth was faster and his expansion pleased England greatly.

However, his heart had never forgotten the promise it had made, nor the violet eyed angel that day on the hillside. Even as he dared to dream of bigger and better things for his people, in the night his thoughts always strayed to her.

The day he proposed becoming one nation, Canada had rejected him. America, though hurt by it, accepted it readily. She had every right to want to be noticed for her own prestigious accomplishments. He wanted what was best for her. It had made sense, given the time period, to think that it would be with him. He had not been nearly as large then as he was now, but his will had been just as strong. He would have crawled through the very fires of hell, on his belly, if it meant Canada would be safe.

Then the wars had happened. World wars. Wars so nightmarish that they destroyed the lives of millions and effected generations after. The greed and blind indifference by some in power to their fellow man left America sickened and worried.

Canada, tender-hearted but a spitfire in her own right, should not have been touched by such foul reaching hands. Yet, her people had died and he watched as she fell apart. America could not bare to see her suffer so. It had taken all that he possessed not to charge into the fray, the consequences be dammed. He had been the one to wipe away her tears, and hold her close so she would not become undone.

There was strength in Canada, America knew that all too well. She could be a demoness on the battlefield, and that never failed to make him proud of her. He was always proud of her and her accomplishments.

He loved her.

Until his dying breath he would continue to love her. Even as he was slowly burned from the inside out with jealousy at how easily she fit into the world. She did not stick out like a sore thumb. Canada was not despised or reviled. However, it was not even truly her that he was jealous of. He could not abide the male nations that saw her as he did.

So when she seemed to fade into the background, a not so noble part of him...

Was relieved.

Maybe he had inherited too much of England... or France for that matter, but America had always considered Canada a part of his future. He was a man that held onto a woman that frankly, wanted nothing to do with him.

Or that was how it felt.

Because he was always watching her. The way she smiled at the Russia. That made hsi stomach twist and clench until it was painful.

He watched when she laughed with Cuba. There were always holes in his presentation from where his fingers bit in too deeply in his anger.

China. She even had that nation under her unintentional spell. America knew because he was captured by her too. Canada could blush so sweetly that he was nearly falling over himself to try and see her look at him that way. China was even taken aback by how Canada could put a nation at ease with her sincere kindness.

America loved her, but she looked right through him. Others joked about Canada being nearly invisible, but it wasn't true. Not by a long shot. There was no where she was that he did notice her. The way her eyes seemed to dance when she was happy. Or the wrinkle that appeared above her brow when he said something she did not agree with.

He knew how she took her coffee, ever since they both started importing it. The times they had spent together, in meetings or what he would call 'dates'; were the most contenting and happiest in his life. He only wanted to protect her, and he was content to watch her from the background if it meant being able to bask even a few more years in her company.

She was... everything. His love for her. Well, that belonged to Canada. There was no way to mistake it or call it something else.

Above all, he wanted Canada to be happy. Even though parts of him wished desperately that she wouldn't act embarrassed by him. He was as he had always been. A bit loud. A little rough around the edges, but his loyalty to her never wavered.

So, when decades had passed, and he could no longer keep himself from trying to warn her about the darker side of some of the male nations...

He had finally told her.

And, it had killed him to see her cry. Because he had known from the moment she started tearing up, that it was a lost cause. Canada always cried when she didn't want to hurt someone's feelings. She always cried when she was sad, or upset.

The countless times he had witnessed her violet orbs well up with tears had all been negative. Every last one. So, he had said his piece. It was time to let her go. Holding onto her... holding onto her only brought Canada problems. She didn't deserve to endure that.

Canada would never know that he had threatened, fought, and scraped with several nations to keep her from harm. She would never know that he had sacrificed, bartered and traded... for her advantage. Always for her.

His protectiveness over Canada was well known by the world. As was America's willingness to listen to every word that Canada said, as if it were his lifeline. There was once a time that America preferred it that way. However, the pleasure in knowing that had faded rather quickly.

America was not blind to the way that others beseeched Canada to reign him in. He was not an idiot, though the world would disagree with that point heavily. He knew that being associated so closely with him had cost her sleepless nights and worry.

He never wanted her to be trapped between treaties with him and another nation. Not after the Cold War.

America was capable of many things, but not that. He could watch her from a distance, but to see her cry because of his love for her...

Well... he was only a nation after all. A man.

And the most selfless and bravest thing he had ever done, was giving her up so that she could find her happiness without him to drag her down.

Therefore, after loving her for nearly 400 years, a decade longer than any other nation knew he would love her forever. Time did nothing to tarnish her wonderful heart and beautiful nature. He stumbled through the worst moment of his life, watching her express sorrow over his honest devotion.

America finally admitted to himself that he would never be the man she would need... or love.

And, he was tired of keeping them both from moving on.

OoOoOo

He missed her.

Every day.

America knew the sheer pain in his heart was from walking away from Canada. But, this was what was best. For both of them.

So, he swept up the pieces of him that had broken the day and bore the pain with a forced smile. Their common allies knew something had happened right away. It was not hard to tell. America felt like a hollow man.

He was tormented by the memoires of their times together, and by the poisonous thoughts of 'what could have been'. The imaginary weight of her body next to his on the mattress, when he drifted off into an almost sleep. The nights were not kind to the Star-Spangled nation.

However, he kept busy. Drawing up new proposal, and going over current events. He filed all his paperwork ahead of time, and spent countless hours working on small things about his house.

All he had was time on his hands.

He had prepared himself for turning Canada away if she came by. Part of him had indulged in an heroic day dream that was more suited as a leading role for Clark Gable in the golden days of Hollywood.

Yet, he did not end up needing to use the steely resolve he had dug deep inside himself to find. Canada did not stop by. She did not write a single letter or even an e-mail. His phone was conspicuously silent.

The star-spangled nation took a deep breath, and knew that the worst was still to come. The pain, and the useless wishing that things had not changed between them.

However, that was a fool's dream. America knew better.

Life was a strange sort of grey without the ability to seek the brightness she provided. However, he was picking himself up by his bootstraps and leaving her alone. He would not drag her down with him any longer. It was a broken road he traveled now, and America accepted that fact as unchangeable.

England came round, a time or two. Words of comfort combined with insults until America actually smiled at the Island nation. His blue eyes were firm behind Texas, resolute in doing what was best for Canada. No matter how much it cost him.

His former caretaker gave gruff words of encouragement more than once and America was sincerely touched by how much England seemed to understand without words being exchanged over what had happened.

OoOoOo

She was beauty personified, he thought, not a country.

The day she walked into the meeting with France, America had thought his poor injured heart had stopped. Simply stopped just to bask in her glow. He smiled then, a true smile, at seeing her looking so determined.

And... happy.

Oh how it stung. To know that she was blossoming so soon after... after getting out from under his over protective shadow.

Ah, he felt the guilt and the sadness of his actions. He had only been thinking about her, he swore to the lord above. It had always been about her or for her.

In the spirit of that, he had to stand strong. America knew deep down in his bones, that this was how it had to be. He could not show her favor over others again.

Yet, he allowed himself to focus solely on her when her turn came at the podium. She was like a breath of fresh air into his now stale world. He savored every syllable she uttered, and his chest swelled with pride over how elegant she seemed. Canada's back was ram-rod straight and her head was held high.

Yes, he would never get his heart back from the beguiling nation that had stolen it centuries ago. No matter how hard he tried. Her innovative ideas, and fierce beliefs had him in awe of her.

He did his best to break the feelings of deep longing that surfaced in him, for her. America took notes, and distracted himself from how powerful Canada could be. Belarus' gaze caught his, as soon as Canada's presentation ended.

It wasn't long enough, in his mind. Hours would not have been long enough to give him the reprieve of being able to look at her to his heart's content. It made the pain stop, and America wanted to suspend time for just a little while.

However, time waited for no one.

Belarus... the only other nation that understood his deep-seeded love, cornered him to demand to know what was going on. She above everyone, even Canada, knew what it was to pin all the hope in the world on a fragile thing like reciprocation.

Why he was not sitting with Canada? America could only give her the honest truth.

"It was time to let go."

Belarus' eyes, usually so cold and hard softened. Even as she frowned at him heavily. She stared at him without saying another word. Slowly, her gaze filled with a keen sense of sorrow for him.

America could not find the words.

When she nodded, her long hair moved slightly and he knew..._knew._

Belarus really did understand.

He could not hide his emotions as well as he would have liked. Not from eyes that could see past the facade.

Mexico was next to him, wanting to further trade deals. The gorgeous female nation could not hold his attention. America found it strangely ironic. Mexico might have actually returned his affections, had he felt anything of that nature for her. However, his heart was firmly with the north.

So, when Canada sought him out, he could not hold back the warmth he felt with her there. He could not deny her, even though he should have. He should not have sunken to the temptation of speaking with her, for it much harder than he imagined to treat her like everyone else.

He easily slipped back into a political mask, where he could hide. Hide from how easy Canada made it seem to be alright, when his whole world was changed. Shattered, even.

A tight smile was all he could manage.

He could not let it show. He needed to act like everything was fine.

It should have been easy, he'd had decades of practice.

But it wasn't.

America allowed himself one moment to linger on the lovely eyes that haunted his every waking moment.

_God... he loved her_.

And, that was as far as it would ever go.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thank you my lovely reviewers! Here we go again.**_

_**Author does not own/lay claim to/ or seek to imply possession of any ideas or literary works contained here in. ( This will start appearing in all of my fan fictions. Just so you know :) )**_

_**I own nothing. Rated M. **_

OoOoOo

If there was anything France hated in this world, it was watching lovers suffer.

Be it from war, or pestilence, plague or old age. It was the suffering of others that caused his heart to weep. Though, as a nation he could not often allow others to be aware of the fact, for it would spell disaster if given a proper opportunity. Which, given that his kind lived for a very long time, was entirely possible.

So, he did not revel in the sad eyes of Canada. Just as he had not cheered over the lost and longing look that America had so often held around France's former colony. Oh how he had often entertained himself with the idea of them one day moving past the misunderstandings and into true... honest... amour.

However, fate had not been kind to America.

The passion he held for Canada, nearly made France green with envy. If any country had loved him so dearly, he might have given up his promiscuous ways. For a moment he imagined what it would have been like to wake to the same face day after day. It had a certain appeal. His thin fingers played with the slightly course hair of his beard, wondering if perhaps lady fate had such a glorious thing in store for France.

Some part of him dearly hoped so.

Yet, it was time now to consider what to do about dear Canada. His little daughter had been rebuffed, publically, by America. The part that saddened France, was that he could hardly blame either of them. America had been exceedingly patient, and hopelessly had fallen in love. A love so strong that it had spanned decades. The European nation was no fool. There was an attraction between the Northern Americans, that even he and Mexico had spoken about on occasion. As the only other North American country, she was far from oblivious at how much America favored Canada.

Why?

Well, France understood.

It had been evident the first time he'd fought England over America. The way the boy had attempted to keep Canada behind him, even as he was hardly a threat. All wheat-gold hair and adorable but defiant blue eyes. The child in the white nightdress, had tried his best to seem intimidating. All it had done was make France want to strive for him as a little brother.

That had failed... of course. That English bastard was certainly _tenacious_. France would be gracious enough to grant him that bit of a compliment. He sighed heavily as he recalled the numerous times America had crept away from England to go seek out Canada. France had never seen the harm in it. The sweet and innocent child-love that was all consuming and the most honest form.

Part of him had suspected, behind his wine glasses as he watched the pair laugh before England would show up and firmly march America back to his land, that it would not end so easily.

And, he had been correct. As those who had know love of many forms, so often were. He had seen the forest, while others had only seen the trees... for a time.

It did not escape his notice that in 1812, America did not lay a single finger on Canada, when his people invaded. Quite the contrary, he had tried to hide her. Alas, poor Canada had inherited France's pride and refused to allow him.

France's heart went out to the brash nation. It truly did. The sheer devotion that burned so brightly in those sky-blue orbs for his little daughter, nearly brought tears to France's eyes. He already considered America part of his family. His honorary son. In a sense it was true.

However, it would not come to pass if he could not help Canada show the star-spangled nation that they spoke love in two opposite languages. It was nothing that could not be overcome. With hard work and open conversation, their chance at happiness could proceed as it should. Yet, America was disillusioned now. A fact that was easy to see, and also pained France considerably. He did not want either nation being hurt.

He had informed Canada that it was not her that he worried over most. That had been a frank truth. The only way France could express it, and though being earnest was not the same as being kind when it came to matters of the heart... this was best. And, Canada had always been a kind as well as gentle nation. Until wars came knocking on the borders of her allies.

Yet, she had never, in perhaps her sweet ignorance, noticed that The United States of America...America... was pining after her. In such a way that it was beyond France ot condemn the man or laugh at how he wore his heart on his sleeve. Though Canada was unaware of it, France knew of the fights and threats America had become intagled with while trying to keep his northern love from harm.

America's anger was swift and merciless when it came to someone even thinking harm on Canada. Love was remarkably simple. It was people that made it complicated with preconceived notions and fragile miscommunications. For Canada, who was not blameless in this sad state, it was that she could not stop and recall that America had bent himself around in shapes just to be near her.

For America, France thought with a knowing smile, it was not seeing that Canada loved him just as much.

To say the words would be so easy, but emotionally they were terrifying. The three simple words that changed lives everyday. The words that had built and destroyed cultures, peoples, and history. Such small... tiny... and irrevocable words. Words that even nations could not fully master. Not even France himself, though he knew them by heart and heard them more times than the wind blew across his wondrous lands.

But he could still hear America's voice ringing in his ears, demanding to take Canada's place. Furious at the world and the evils of humanity, but the blazing look of determination and self-sacrifice in his blue eyes had caused France to still. For the first time, he had actually been afraid of what America was capable of, for there was nothing him holding him back.

It was gloriously beautiful, at the same time it was humbling and terrifying.

In the spirit of the memory, in the hopes for his children's future. France stretched and sighed. It was time to make a phone call. He gave one last glace at the gorgeous scenery before him. Likely, it was wiser to leave well enough alone. However...

He had never been able to deny Canada anything.

That included helping her obtain the only nation that she'd ever loved. France would do what he could to protect America's heart as well. The boy deserved that much, at the very least.

OoOoOo

Canada tried to appear a little more dressy than business this morning.

Internally she was a wreck of swirling emotions that made her throat itch, and stomach feel uneasy. The northern nation had done as America asked, wanting to show him respect and the clearly defined distance he had suggested. Until, of course, she could tell him how she felt and that they were both stupid. In a sense. Perhaps her more so than him.

Either way, she was here and staring at the beige walls with disinterest. Trying not to hatch butterflies in her stomach. She smoothed her hair for what felt to be like the eighth time. Her boss gave her a quite glance, partly out of curiosity and concern. It was true, he had never seen his personification act so nervous before. However, Canada had requested this meeting between herself and America.

Purely out of business reasons.

Then she was going to take the chance to speak with him, so that she could invite him out to lunch. There, Canada hoped, they could actually discuss the mutual feelings between them, like two consenting adults. _Nations._ Two consenting Nations, that were also adults. She cleared her throat, and her violet eyes scanned the room. She tried not to fidget as her eyes landed on the clock. The beige wall seemed to be laughing at her.

The other nations knew. Canada had over heard them, and felt even worse about the whole ordeal. Had everybody known but her? How they must have mocked them. They were probably laughing at her too. Just like the wall.

No. No they weren't. She was just...

The last meeting had gone _awfully_ wrong somewhere. Canada just did not know where. She had replayed the conversation a thousand times in her head. She had barely even had the chance to speak to America. Let alone offend him to the extent that he wouldn't speak with her. Granted, he had been aloof toward everyone. Still, the more she thought about it, the more America seemed withdrawn from her. She did not like the observation or the feeling. It made her extremely unhappy and sad. She'd never had America so far out of reach before. Even when her people were Anti-American... he'd still always come by. Even laughing as people sneered at his accent and clothing.

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Her fingers felt cold as she clenched her hands in her lap, straightening her posture. Canada glanced at the clock again. He should have been here by now. Shouldn't he? He knew it was her. Canada had made certain, in a trembling and mayhap timid voice, to leave a message with his secretary. America wasn't answering any personal calls or e-mails. However, she'd reached out to Mexico -which had just gone over... _super well_\- and asked if the Southern most country in North America, had heard from him.

America wasn't even speaking to Mexico personally anymore.

Canada worried her bottom lip. She felt displaced, and off kilter. The way things were between America and herself were all wrong. She hadn't known he'd been waiting for her to say something. She hadn't known that he cared, but now she did. All she wanted was for him to smile at her like he used to, or joke with her. Ruffling her hair with that soft blush that always stained his cheeks when she was near.

In hind sight, it was all painfully obvious to her now, and it had her near tears a few times.

Her boss patted her on the shoulder, something that he had never done.

"It's going to be alright, eh?" He said with a genuine smile.

Canada could not explain why, but it calmed her considerably. Maybe... maybe it really would be alright.

OoOoOo

America stared pensively at the papers in his hands. He took a steadying breath, to calm his racing heart. Canada was in the building. He could feel it. Her. He could sense her. Well, not really, but he had seen the meeting schedule for the day and his President had given him a knowing look.

Apparently he was terrible at hiding his love for his northern neighbor.

Also, there was the glaring fact that America had requested time off after the last world meeting. He had buried himself in his work, but stayed home, trying not to go to places where he might accidently find his feet heading toward the Canadian border. That had happened a time or two... hundred. However, those days were gone now. He was fulfilling his promise. He was not going to hurt or impede her anymore.

Never again.

Her didn't think he could live watching her cry because of his love for her again. It was all too much to bear.

"America?" The president inquired with a reserved tone of voice.

His blue eyes glanced up, locking with his figure-head's gaze through Texas. "Yes, Sir?"

"Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

"No," he admitted in an unabashed fashion. His president laughed, clearly amused by the honesty.

"You have a call," the President replied, pointing to the cell phone that was -in fact- buzzing on the table. America flushed to the roots of his hair and offered a wan smile.

America reached for the phone, not really wanting to answer, but grateful for the distraction. He wasn't quite ready to face Canada again. Not just yet. Give him five more minutes and he'd breeze through the meeting with a smile so realistic that no one would know it was fake.

It read 'France' across the screen. America sighed heavily and set it back on the table, not wanting to speak with the other male nation.

"I'll return it later," the star-spangled nation said solemnly before steeling himself internally.

"You don't have to attend," the President said with an uncharacteristic softness in his features, and a look of kinship in his eyes.

Alfred gave a smile then, wan and tight.

"Oh, but you don't understand." The blonde male replied nearly stoically. "I do have to attend."

Because even if his love was doomed, he could indulge himself with the only mercy he had left.

Watching her from across a table.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Hetalia, or any affiliated licensed ideas. _**

**_Not meant to cause offense in any way, shape, or form. :) _**

**_Per request! I am updating it._**

**_I own nothing. ;)_**

OoOoOo

There was nothing quite as nerve racking and as heartbreaking as watching America, watch Canada.

His eyes were not possessive, they were resigned. Yet, in the soft morning light, his blue gaze seemed so full of love and care that Canada could hardly face him. They way he _looked _at her. It brought tears to her eyes, then his gaze would swing away. As the male nation shrugged away, all the more injured for causing her some perceived pain. It was the space between the wrong side of heaven and the right side of hell.

Being so close to her. Smelling her perfume as it wafted in the space between them. However, he was tortured by the distance, minor though it was. Seeing her in person again. Noticing her sweet expression and the way she seemed just as on-edge about this meeting as he was...

Some part of America entertained the paltry fantasy that she cared as he did.

But that... that was not his fate.

He was her protector, though he knew she was a strong nation capable of defending herself. He just wanted to protect her. He deeply regretted the battles between them. The decades spent in mistrust. It was like a hole burning through his very heart. The heart that only seemed to beat for her.

_'Canada', _he thought for what seemed like the millionth time', _'I love you'._

It was a statement that was written on his very soul. He'd loved her since before his own recorded history. He'd loved her long before the others had come. Since before they'd even truly known what nations were.

She was the epitome of everything he cherished and held dear. Other than his people.

Yet, he could not burden her with that. He couldn't love her as he wanted to, and America understood that. So it had been time to cease the torment. He couldn't stand hurting her. It was the one thing in the world he simply could not do.

So he withdrew.

However, his eyes betrayed him. As they were want to do. She was all he wanted, all he really needed. She was akin to breathing. Needed for his very existence. But, they were not meant to be.

A soft and sad smile crept on his face, shattering the look of obvious adoration, and left in its place the haggard appearance of defeat. It was the only battle he could not win. Jetting off into the endless vastness of space was nothing. Reaching the stars and breaking the known laws of science was a paltry task.

But...

The chance for her love...

That would forever be out of his reach.

OoOoOo

It was caught in her throat.

Every word she was trying to will herself to utter. Such a simple thing. To tell him the truth. To speak out how much she loved him. Even though things between them had never been exactly easy. She could do it. It would only take a moment. It was stinging at her, buzzing like angry bees in her thoughts.

_Tell him. _

_Please._

_Let me tell him_.

Her fingers had turned a pale white as she clutched them in her lap. Everything about her was riveted on her Southern neighbor, who hadn't said so much as a word to her. Nothing had been spoken between them. Not even the pleasantries.

Both leaders were ill-at-ease with the sudden change between the pair. Though the President of the United States had been aware of their 'radio silence' in recent events, no one had quite known the extent of the rift.

The Canadian Prime Minster cleared his throat, not wanting to cause a scene with Canada and America. He drew the President of the United States into a discussion of pressing international concerns.

Canada herself, was a mess. She wanted to invite America to lunch. To speak with him alone, but her heart kept hammering in her chest and she felt like she was slowly dying when his blue eyes clouded over, and his smile became a strained empty mask. It caused her to fidget slightly. His blue eyes honed in on the movement. America could already tell that she was nervous, she was sure.

Because he stealthily pushed some of the coffee her way. Though caffeine would only make her problem worse, she understood that he was distracting her form her own nerves. She couldn't help but wonder just how many times he'd done that. How many times he'd noticed everything about her. Even when she felt utterly ignored by the rest of the world.

He...

America had...

Well, he did love her.

She hoped. Canada felt sick to her stomach as she realized she wasn't exactly sure how he felt anymore. And that was driving her up the wall. Because, she loved him. And, it was not a waivering sort of love. She and America- well she liked to think- that they complemented each other very well. It was all she thought about these days, all the missed time and opportunites for them to resolve their misunderstandings. He was slipping through her fingers and she just wanted-

"I need to talk to you!" She shouted out, startling everyone in the room.

Both leaders jumped, and turned toward her. Canada blushed to the roots of her hair. She broke into a cold sweat, wondering where tha thad come from.

America's blue eyes bored into her violet gaze. A political smile was on his lips, another mask.

Canada hated that look on him. She couldn't stand it.

"We are talking," he said congenially. The male nation shifted, giving a placating grin to the pair of humans.

"Alone." She pressed.

It was so out of character for her, or at least it was these days, that America narrowed his gaze. She could practically see the thoughts whirling in his head. He likely thought she was in danger, for his attitude instantly turned serious.

"Of course," he agreed readily, "please excuse us?"

"Go right ahead, if that's okay with you?" The President questioned to the Prime Minister.

"Yes, go ahead." The Canadian official agreed.

Canada trembled slightly as she shoved herself away from the table. Her chair rolled a bit too far, but she didn't care in the slightest. America glanced at her curiously, and also with obvious concern.

"Right this way," he gestured formally, to the door that lead to another room. Smaller, but just as equally suited for business.

She nodded, scarcely able to trust herself to speak.

OoOoOo

"Well," The President says, the moment the nations are out of ear shot. "That was awkward."

"Tell me about it," The Prime Minister responds causally. "She's been like that all morning."

"So, since I think we both know this was just an excuse for them to talk...beer?"

Its far from politically perfect, in fact some people would be down right scandalized. Especially when the Prime Minster agreed with knowing look.

"Why not? We have this meeting blocked off for another two hours."

"Excellent point. We'll need more beer. Hey, have you played this 'Pokémon Go!' game everyone is talking about?"

OoOoOo

America is highly concerned by her outburst. It just isn't like her. She must have been threatened. Likely by the same characters as last time.

"Canada," he starts to assure her -because he will protect her with everything in his vast arsenal, because he'd waltz through the fires of hell if it meant she'd be safe-, because the agitated movements are so clearly visible.

"America!" She says louder than his normal volume. As if she needs him to hear her in a crowded room, though its only the two of them.

The blush on her cheeks is distracting. As is the way she stares at him as if her entire future hangs in the balance.

America knows he is a weak man. Anything she needs, he will give her.

Anything at all.

"Yes?" He draws back at the sound of her near-shout. His gaze searches her face, and Canada looks near tears again.

"There is something I need to tell you," she says trying not to look at the ground the whole time.

He can tell she's scared, and it brings his need to protect her further to life. He'll fight it away. Whatever it is. He'll chase the bag guys into the dirt and make sure they never scare her again. And, he would take every speck of blame the world might cast. All of it.

"What is it?" His tone bordered on urgent.

Violet eyes are wide and they shine brighter than anything the sky could hope to produce, as she whispers three words that he has been waiting over 300 years to hear.

"I love you."

It was so unexpected, that America believes that he has hallucinated for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he starts, and watches in mystification as Canada's expression crumples.

"What did you say?"

She blinks, and a single crystaline tear carves a path down her cheek.

"What?" She questions slightly hoarsely.

"What?" America repeats growing more confused and startled with each passing heartbeat. "What did you say?"

Canada's brow furrows and she stares at him for a long moment.

"I love you." The words are a whisper this time, and the male nation strains to hear it. Yet, he does. However, it is doesn't seem to make sense to him, what she is saying.

It wasn't possible.

Canada...

Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

He swallowed heavily, unable to tear his gaze from her.

OoOoOo

She said it.

Canada was close to hyperventilating. But, she had said it. She had been forward and told him in simple English. There was no way to mistake her. Yet, America was still as a statue and he was only staring at her.

As if he couldn't believe her words.

"I love you." She repeated as she took a step closer toward him.

Still, he did not move.

Canada needed him to respond. she'd just poured her heart out to him, and he wasn't saying anything. Why wasn't he talking? Tears stung her eyes, as she fought with the thousands of voices of doubt screaming in her head that she'd just ruined everything.

No. America loved her.

He'd told her that he did.

She clenched her jaw as hot and salty liquid spilled from her eyes, unchecked.

"America?" The Northern nation questioned with obvious hesitation. Her hand reached for him, she cupped his cheek with her cold hand.

His hand came up, startling her as he pressed her skin against his more firmly. His blue eyes slid closed, and she could see the strained look that crossed his face.

"Please, Canada," he said gently, "don't toy with me like this."

For a moment she stopped breathing.

Toy with him?

She was perfectly sincere. Why wouldn't he believe her?

It did not escape her notice that he still held her hand to his cheek. As if he could not bare to let her go.


End file.
